The Internal Struggle of Compunction
by Sassycaslovesdean
Summary: Dean left the mental hospital, leaving behind an empty shell of the once almighty angel. But what really happened inside of Castiel's head? Was Lucifer still in his mind for a while? Set during season 7 after Cas takes on Sam's cage match scars.


Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters in it.

Castiel's POV:

I felt a sudden cold wash over me as I watched Dean leave the room. He looked back at me with this strange expression that I was sure meant he was blaming himself. I wanted to assure him that this way my choice, and I deserved far worse after all I had done to him and to Sam. The betrayal, the lying… The destruction. I deserved death. No, actually… I deserved far worse, but I was more than willing to do that penance. Penance, however, is a tricky matter because humans seem to have varying definitions of justice and the punishments that come with it, and yet, angels have always held vastly different opinions. It is now that I wonder what God would have thought of justice and proper penance, but to me at the time, it meant anything and everything I could to to repair the harm I had done, and it perhaps meant inflicting some back on me - whether intentional or not.

Nevertheless, as I sat frozen in my body as my mind swirled, conjuring up images of Lucifer and unimaginable gore, I could only think of how much I wished to reach out to Dean. I did not wish for him to leave me… Ever. The strange thing has always been the peculiar sense of warmth and acceptance that Dean tends to display without intending to. There was never a person I enjoyed being around more than Dean because no matter how useless I felt, he made me feel like I counted for… Something. I was… Family to him, and I could only hope that he would still count me as such, but if he could after all of that, then that peculiar determination in blind trust in me - I think humans call that love - never ceased to captivate me. I admired Dean Winchester for the great man he was, but also what he meant to me: the meaning he had given my robotic existence as an angel, the emotions he had shown me, and most importantly the free will of how to use and defend them. Yes, I loved the Winchesters, but perhaps there was something deeper about Dean…

Regardless, he left with only one last, longing glance over his shoulder, his green eyes thick with unspoken emotion that was semi repressed. His mouth was drawn in a tight frown that almost screamed distaste or pity, but which one I could not be sure. He swallowed heavily as he glanced through the window on the door, his hand still toying with the half open door as if he were pondering running back in and doing some ridiculous thing like talk to the hollow dummy that I appeared as. He seemed conflicted - like his loyalties were being tested, and he felt as if he were perhaps making the wrong choice.

I tried my hardest to life my frozen gaze to him, but I could not. I seemed to be completely out of touch with my body. I needed to say something. I need to…

"He's going to leave, Cassie." Lucifer hissed in my ear from where he resided on the desk across the room. "Of course he is. He's probably just thinking of a better way to torture you. I mean, after all you did, he can't let you off _this_ easily."

I said nothing in response. I had no control over my mouth to even do so. After I had first seen Lucifer, my sense spiralled rapidly out of control, and I soon wound up without any control over my vessel.

As Dean turned away and left with a newly healed Sam, I soon felt my very essence become a separate entity from my vessel. I was now standing outside of my body, simply staring down at what had once been Jimmy Novak.

I narrowed my eyes, inching my hollow form towards the lifeless one staring blankly at the door as if still not processing that his whole world had just left him alone with the devil himself.

I, or Jimmy Novak, was frozen still. My body's eyes did not move in the slightest, not did any motion or attempt at moving him did his body budge.

Slowly, I backed away from him, looking at my ghostly hands. The thought suddenly struck me that perhaps my body was no longer moving because I was no longer in it but trapped outside it. That did bring up the question of how I could get back in.

Cautiously, I crept over to the wall to test my theory. The dull gray that had been deemed white by some half sober painter stood facing in front of me, a mass of swirling reality. Slowly, I reached my hand towards the wall only to find that it went right through the sea of gray. My theory was confirmed. I was indeed no longer truly in that world. I was stuck somewhere in between, between the lines of reality and time itself.

"Poor little Cassie. He's just a ghost now." Lucifer cooed. He was silent for a moment before he gasped suddenly, his eyes wide with some taunting glint. "Maybe you're dead already! Now that just wouldn't be any fun." He pulled a sour frown that did not come close to being convincing in the slightest.

"I'm not dead. I'm detached." I finally answered if only just to get the thought voiced in order to rationalize my own situation. "I have to get back in my body. There is still so much penance to do. I still owe Dean and Sam so much-" I began to ramble, my essence self pacing back and forth while my physical form sat perfectly still on the bed like the empty vessel it was.

"Or," Lucifer interrupted, his voice irritatingly cool and certain. "They left you because they want you to stay this way. Think about." He leaned in, a copy smile dancing about his features, spreading like wild fire, leaving his eyes with an undeniable mischievous taint. "All those horrible things you did. Who could ever forgive you for that? You deserve death, Castiel! You deserve far worse than death. This is the closest to proper punishment that you could get. You can't help them, and you certainly can't make things better. Whenever you try, things only get worse!"

Lucifer was shouting now, and it was at this point that my suspicions of his authenticity arose. Evidently, Dean and many angels were infuriated by my actions, but nobody other than me knew how I felt about my futile actions. How could Lucifer ever know something that personal. Perhaps, he was simply in my head. Perhaps _I_ was simply in my head. Maybe I was not trapped outside my body after all. It could have been that I was imagining myself outside of my body, pacing without success to discover a solution. Was it my own inner turmoil causing this illusion? Or was I truly trapped outside of my vessel? Was Lucifer even real? Was his soul truly present in that room, or was he simply an embodiment of my own self hatred that I had harvested over my years amongst humans.

"Why do you even try?" Lucifer's taunting voice brought me back. He was still seated on the desk across the room, leaning forward now with his voice gaining heat and scorn by the second. "Everything you do only hurts more people. You claim that you only wanted to help Sam and Dean, but now you've hurt them - destroyed them. Can't you see that they'll never be able to forgive you? Why would they? You broke Sam's wall! You killed so many angels! You liked to them! You just wanted power, and then when it started to kill you, you had to give it up. You didn't do the righteous thing. You did what you had to do to survive. You were only thinking about yourself after all. You are truly pathetic, Castiel. I mean, you fell for the humans because you did not fit in back in heaven. You were an outcast, a reject, the broken spring. You were _useless_ , so you fell." He leaned back a bit, a tiny breath escaping his lips as if he were remembering some distant memory. "And then you became their pet. They called you only when they needed you. When you lost your powers, you became _nothing_ to them. They never cared about you. They cared about what power and advantages you could give them. You were nothing more than a weapon to them, and you still are. They did not care about you the same way that they cared about their real friends. When you died, they did not even grieve. They did not care. They hardly even noticed. I bet Dean was just burdened when he found out that you survived. He had just hoped that you had died. You, the angel he _hates_ more than anything, survived, and now he allowed you to give yourself up to insanity to save his brother because he _cares_ about his brother. You? He honestly couldn't care less. Hey," His eyebrows perked up as if he were delivering good news. "He was probably happy to finally be getting rid of you. Look at it this way, you've made his life better by being stuck here with me. Now he's free of you, and you get a deserving punishment. Sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it?"

I stood impossibly still in the silence, my mind detailing and sloshing about with the reality that was being forced upon me. I knew that no matter what, I had to attempt to earn Dean's trust again. I had to become his friend again. I _needed_ him back with me. Without him or Sam, I had nothing - no family, no friends, no real identity. I cared about them deeply, and I knew that they may hate me, but I would have to do anything I could to make it up to them. I need to. Determination took over my features of my spiritual essence. I had to find a way back into my body and to Dean. I had a lot of making up to do.


End file.
